


Public Displays of Affection

by AuroraWest, Nonexistenz



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Art, Bathroom Sex, Bottom Stephen Strange, Digital Art, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, M/M, NSFW Art, POV Loki (Marvel), Porn with Feelings, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Top Loki (Marvel), Wall Sex, sorry to the other characters i dragged into this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29769804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraWest/pseuds/AuroraWest, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonexistenz/pseuds/Nonexistenz
Summary: The main value of any social function, in Loki's point of view, is the fact that he gets to see Stephen Strange in a suit. The down side to seeing Stephen in a suit is that it's terribly difficult for Loki to keep his hands off him—and there are few things that make Loki more uncomfortable than public displays of affection.Then again, hereallylikes Stephen in a suit. And it's a simple piece of magic to lock the bathroom door behind them...
Relationships: Loki/Stephen Strange
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41
Collections: MCU Kink Bingo Round 5





	Public Displays of Affection

**Author's Note:**

> Fic and art for MCU Kink Bingo, round 5, for square Setting: A Public Bathroom. Fic by Aurora West, beautiful art by Nonexistenz!

Loki picked at the tiny quiche on his plate, half eaten and long cold, before leaning back in his chair. “How long until we can leave, do you think?”

Stephen sipped at his wine, the glass shaking in his grip. “You always want to leave social events ten minutes after we get to them. Dinner hasn’t even been served yet.”

“It’s been an hour,” Loki said, folding his arms over his chest. “And no one is talking to us. We’re clearly the black sheep of the Avengers.”

“Uh huh. That’s melodramatic, Odinson.”

Loki tilted his head, angling it so that a piece of hair fell over his face. It made Stephen smile slightly at him, that sexy pull at the corner of his mouth that made heat bloom in Loki’s gut, always. Always. “I’ll make it worth your while if we leave now, Strange,” Loki said.

His smile growing a little more crooked, Stephen said, “Yeah but, let’s be honest—if we spend five hours here, you’re going to be—ahem—ready to go, anyway. So, I mean, I’m kind of getting it no matter what.” When Loki looked flatly at him, Stephen nudged him with his knee. “Another hour or two. Then we can go.”

Loki glanced around the room. Perhaps calling the two of them the ‘black sheep’ of the Avengers was a _bit_ melodramatic, but it was inescapable that they were sitting at this table alone, and that it was in the back of the room, presumably so no one had to see the back of Loki’s head during the entertainment portion of the program.

Ostensibly this event was to celebrate what would have been Stark’s birthday. Loki supposed it must have been an important one. Or perhaps not. Sometimes Loki thought Stark’s widow simply liked staging reminders of Stark’s existence, so that none of them would forget that it was his money that had financed so much of this operation in the early days. Renting out an entire hotel and attached restaurant—boutique, exclusive, expensive, of course—in Marseilles was the perfect way to remind everyone.

Thor would tell him that was unfair. And perhaps he even would have been right. But Loki didn’t really care, because he didn’t want to be here in the first place.

Rolling his eyes, he tried to find his brother. Thor, of course, had been seated with them, and Jane, along with Brunnhilde and Sif, but all of them were wandering around, mingling. There had also been someone that Loki barely knew, Moon Knight something or another, whom Loki had to assume didn’t have many friends there. If he did, he wouldn’t be sitting with the New Asgard contingent.

Plus Strange, who no one quite knew what to do with. Was he an Avenger? Wasn’t he an Avenger? Was he really _dating Loki?_ Well, sure, yes, Loki hadn’t attacked Earth in over twenty years now, and yes he’d been cleared of any charges—even though he’d never actually, legally been charged with anything to begin with—and he’d helped in a number of battles between the forces of good and evil, fighting side by side with the Avengers and their assorted hangers-on. But _really?_ Loki?

Anyway, they got odd looks sometimes.

At least being at a social function meant Stephen had put on a suit. There were many things in life that Loki appreciated. A nice glass of wine, the way the wind felt coming off the fjord in New Asgard, the warmth of the fire on those long, dark nights in December and January. New York City in the autumn, the organized chaos of Manhattan, a perfectly greasy piece of pizza. A star-strewn sky; any star-strewn sky, but especially Earth’s, his adopted home.

But at the very top of the list, very possibly, was Stephen Strange in a well-fitted suit, his tie crisp against his white shirt, his hair combed back and his goatee meticulous. The suit was such a dark navy that it was almost black, and it made his eyes look bright blue. He was so beautiful. The sight of him made Loki’s stomach flutter.

Longingly, he thought of how Stephen would look if the two of them escaped from here and went to walk along the bright cerulean sea that was visible through the massive bank of floor to ceiling windows. They could find somewhere quiet and private where they’d sit on one of the rocky outcrops that littered the shoreline. They would roll their pants up and dangle their feet in the water. Loki would unbutton Stephen’s jacket and slip his arm inside it, wrapping his arm around Stephen’s back, and he’d simply look at him, at how perfect he was.

Stephen slung an arm over the back of his chair as he surveyed the restaurant, but when his eyes landed on Loki, he smiled again. “You’re staring,” he said.

But this fantasy was just that: a fantasy. They were stuck here, so Loki would try to make the best of it. “Why wouldn’t I stare at the nicest looking thing in the room?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

The smile on Stephen’s face got more crooked. “Well, I have to do justice to my plus one.”

Loki put a hand over his tie and smoothed it over his chest. “Somehow, I don’t think anyone here is admiring what a lovely couple we are.”

“Their loss,” Stephen said. His knee bumped Loki’s again and this time, stayed where it was, pressing against Loki’s leg. When Loki let his hand drop to his side so that it was hanging between their chairs, Stephen did the same, brushing his knuckles against Loki’s. His tremor quieted as he left his hand there. After a second, he moved his hand, reaching for Loki’s fingers and catching them in his own.

Loki didn’t look at their joined hands. “Not in public,” he murmured, though he left his fingers intertwined with Stephen’s.

“No one can see,” Stephen replied. “And they all know we’re together.” When Loki nevertheless disentangled their fingers, something that looked like sadness flickered through Stephen’s eyes. “You know they aren’t judging you as much as you think they are,” Stephen said quietly, putting both of his hands back on the table. “Or us.”

“They don’t like me,” Loki said stubbornly. “And they like you less because you’re with me.”

“Eh.” Stephen drummed his fingers on the table and shot a lopsided smile at Loki. “They never liked me all that much to begin with. I don’t think they ever appreciated my sense of humor.”

Looking out over the room, spotting Thor and Jane talking with Hope van Dyne, Loki said, “Perhaps it’s your unflagging arrogance and insistence that you’re always right?”

“I _am_ always right.”

Loki gave him a sidelong look. “Yes, well, all the more reason for them to not be your biggest fans.”

Scooping the half-eaten quiche off Loki’s plate and popping it into his mouth, Stephen said, “I think you’re supposed to insist that they _do_ like me, not list the reasons I only get invited to parties and weddings out of obligation.”

A smile twitched at Loki’s mouth. “I hate to be the one to inform you of this, Strange, but if you were looking for that type of thing in a lover, you made a very poor choice in me, indeed.”

Stephen gave him a look that began acerbic but turned soft, and fond, and then Loki had to look away because his stomach exploded into butterflies, like the little blue ones that Stephen occasionally conjured. Steadily, Stephen said, “I’d kiss you right here, Odinson, except for the whole you-hating-PDA thing.”

“And I hate the term ‘PDA,’” Loki reminded him.

Rather than appearing chastised, Stephen only looked as though he was more tempted to lean over and kiss Loki. Loki wanted to kiss him, too. Especially in that suit. Just—not here. He couldn’t be that way, not like Thor and Jane, or Brunnhilde and Sif, or Hope van Dyne and Scott Lang, who had just joined her and slipped an arm around her waist. People stared, and Loki had been stared at all his life. He didn’t want his happiness scrutinized. He didn’t want to listen to snide remarks, like the one Barton had made the first time Loki and Stephen had arrived together to one of these events—“You know he’s into mind control, right, Strange?”

Loki had glared icily at him and Barton had just given him a hard smile and walked away. Obviously, Barton and Loki would never get along. But Loki had thought—perhaps—he was beyond that type of barb with these people.

Some of them, yes. Lang enjoyed his company. So did van Dyne. The Eternals, when they made appearances to these things, seemed to hold nothing against him. Wanda was fine. She was a sorcerer and thus more understanding.

Barton despised him, though. Loki couldn’t really blame him. When he’d said that, “You know he’s into mind control,” and walked away, Loki’s throat had closed up, his face frozen in a glare.

Finally, Loki had turned to Stephen, afraid, truly afraid, of what he would see on Stephen’s face. If Barton thought he was the first person to think of this, he was wrong. _Loki_ had thought of it. Loki had wondered if somehow he _had_ cast some sort of spell on Stephen without meaning to—unintentionally, simply because of the force of his feelings. If perhaps the effort of pushing them down for so many years, the willpower and energy that had gone into denying them, had resulted in his feelings finding their way out of him by some other means. Why else would Stephen have fallen in love with him?

But Stephen’s gaze was firm. He shook his head and Loki had felt something ease in his chest. And then Stephen had touched his fingers to his heart and given Loki a tiny smile, a look in his eyes so full of meaning that even Loki couldn’t misread it.

Loki bumped his knee against Stephen’s and smiled at him. “If you care to step outside, perhaps we can arrange something. As long at it’s not…public.”

Stephen gave him a crooked smile. “An hour or two.”

_An hour or two_. Sighing, Loki said, “I’ll count how many times we’re snubbed by everyone else here.”

This made Stephen chuckle. “Okay, you get started on that. I’m going to the bathroom; be back in a second.”

Loki sat at the table alone for about five seconds, then abruptly got up and followed Stephen, who glanced over his shoulder and smiled, then waited for Loki to catch up with him. _This_ was stupid. He just didn’t want to sit there feeling sorry for himself, knowing that people would see him there, alone, and be unsurprised by that fact. Of course Loki was alone.

Even the bathroom was opulent. Leaning against the sink and watching as Stephen unzipped his pants at a urinal, Loki asked, “What’s so special about staying here for another hour? Is it really necessary?”

“I’m just trying to be polite,” Stephen said, glancing over at Loki. “C’mon. You’re a prince. You’ve gotta be used to attending functions you’d rather not be at.”

Loki raised his eyebrows, his arms folded over his chest. “Used to it, yes. But I’ve never cared for it. Somehow my best efforts at these types of things never seem to be enough. They never were at court, either.” As Stephen looked at him, Loki pressed his lips together and sighed.

“You ever think the PDA thing might be related to that?” Stephen asked, finishing up at the urinal. He zipped his pants up and flushed, then came to stand beside Loki to wash his hands. “You know, being judged, not doing things right? Like maybe you’re afraid it’s another thing you’re going to do wrong?”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me, Stephen.”

Stephen shook water off his fingers, gave Loki a look, grabbed a towel, and dried his hands on it, before tossing it in a cloth-lined basket. Then, he reached out and put a hand on Loki’s arm. Loki didn’t move. They were alone now, at least, though nothing was preventing anyone from walking through the bathroom door.

Hooking his fingers around Loki’s upper arm, Stephen said, “We can go if you really want to. You want to know the truth? I just like looking at you in a suit.”

At this, Loki smiled. “Well, the feeling is mutual.”

Damn. Now he felt guilty. Now he felt as though he _should_ just grin and bear this party, even though it was the last place he wanted to be. Stark deserved to be celebrated, Loki supposed. He had been beloved by many here. And Loki _was_ a prince. This was far from the worst social event he’d ever attended.

And—Stephen in a suit. That made up for a lot.

The hand on Loki’s arm seemed to have been Stephen’s attempt to test the waters, because he put his other hand on Loki’s hip, then leaned forward and kissed him softly.

At that moment, the bathroom door opened. Loki jerked backwards, forgetting that he was already leaning against the sink, and jammed the edge of the counter into the small of his back.

T’Challa walked in, his footsteps faltering when he caught sight of the two of them. Amusement flickered through his eyes. “Stephen,” he said, nodding a greeting. “Loki.”

Whatever nerve was at the bottom of Loki’s spine was making his eyes water. At least Stephen had stepped away, putting a distance between them that hinted at propriety.

“T’Challa,” Stephen said, as though he hadn’t just been mouth to mouth with the God of Mischief in a public bathroom.

At least T’Challa went into a stall. Loki gave Stephen a meaningful look, jerking his head towards the door. This situation suddenly struck him as utterly absurd—it sounded like the beginning of a joke, in fact. The King of Wakanda, the Sorcerer Supreme, and the Prince of New Asgard were all in a restroom together… Stephen didn’t move, though, which was mystifying enough that Loki didn’t slip past him. Loki did, however, move away from the sinks. It would be mortifying if T’Challa had to _ask_ him to move.

When the stall door opened, Loki put his fingers to the bridge of his nose and looked anywhere but at T’Challa.

“Enjoying the party?” T’Challa asked, after he’d washed his hands.

“Oh, you know,” Stephen said. Loki saw him wave a hand. “Clearly.”

When Loki glanced up, T’Challa was smiling slightly. “Nakia prefers not to come at all,” he said. “But when she does, she’s usually able to find somewhere to spend a portion of the evening alone.”

It wasn’t everyone who would walk in on the two of them kissing and be this…friendly about it. A bit unwillingly, Loki returned T’Challa’s smile. “I believe the Queen and I have come upon each other trying to, er—” He’d been about to say _hide_ , but that was hardly respectful. “—find some peace and quiet.”

“Hm, I’ll tell her she needs to find better hiding places,” T’Challa said. “The entire point is _not_ to be found.”

This time, Loki’s smile came a little more easily. “Well. I _am_ the God of Mischief. And, to be honest, of Sneaking Up On People.”

T’Challa laughed, then looked thoughtful. Perhaps it had been an oversight to leave T’Challa off Loki’s earlier list of people-who-didn’t-clearly-despise him. He’d always just…assumed. T’Challa was a _king_ in the way that Odin had been a king, and thus intimidating in a way that Loki would never quite shake. Though Loki thought he was probably a much better father to his two children than Odin had ever been.

Seeming to come to a decision, T’Challa said, “The two of you should come to Wakanda one day. I would like to hear more about New Asgard.”

Taken by surprise, Loki asked, “Don’t you mean Asgard?”

With a small shrug, T’Challa said, “Only if you haven’t tired of talking about it with every curious human who’s never met an alien before.” Dropping his hand towel in the basket, he said, “Think about it. And enjoy the rest of the party.”

The door closed behind him as he left, and Loki released the tension he hadn’t quite realized he was holding in his shoulders. Stephen looked at him, a combination of fondness and exasperation in his gaze. “Odinson. Everyone here has seen two people kissing. They’ve _probably_ even seen two people kissing in a bathroom.”

“The Wakandan royal family probably doesn’t frequent all that many public restrooms,” Loki snorted.

A smile pulled at Stephen’s mouth. “Okay, fine. But he didn’t seem scandalized, right? We just got an invitation to Birnin Zana. People don’t invite people they dislike to come over.”

Arching an eyebrow, Loki said, “Actually, the royal life consists of quite a lot of inviting people around who you don’t care for, but, point taken.” He fingered one of the buttons on his suit jacket. “Would you want to…do that? I suppose it’s a bit like a…a state function.” Though he got the feeling T’Challa hadn’t wanted it to be like a state function. Loki just didn’t know how they avoided it being one. He was still the Prince of New Asgard.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Stephen asked.

Loki shrugged, not having a good answer to this, beyond, _why do you want to do anything with me?_ “I’ve been told all of Wakanda is very beautiful,” Loki commented, apropos of nothing. “I’ve only ever been to Birnin Zana.”

Stephen was looking at him, a soft expression in his eyes. Loki’s fingers paused in his fidgeting, the button pressing into the skin beneath his fingernail. “What?” Loki asked.

Shaking his head, Stephen stepped forward, put his hands on Loki’s face, and kissed him. And Loki may not have liked public displays of affection, but he’d never been able to stop kissing Stephen. He raised his hands and slid them over Stephen’s shoulders, then linked them behind his neck, leaning into the kiss.

It was chaste. Gentle. The sort of kiss that wasn’t terribly embarrassing to be engaged in if, say, the King of Wakanda walked into the room, or perhaps your brother.

And then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

Stephen’s mouth tugged at Loki’s lower lip, and before Loki could think the words, _I hate public displays of affection_ , he’d opened his mouth to Stephen. Heat exploded low in his belly; desire, need, the ache of his body’s hunger. And with that, there was far too much tongue involved for it to be anything less than mortifying for anyone to walk in. Stephen pressed against him, chests and hips together, and the edge of the counter jammed into Loki’s back.

Why, _why_ should that have changed anything? But it did. It did _something_ to him, it flipped some switch, and quite suddenly, he didn’t care that they were in a public bathroom, at a party that ninety percent of his social circle was attending, and where over half of them could walk in at any moment and see this. He had so much pent up energy, so much anxiety and desperation to be anywhere else, somewhere that was just Stephen and him. His mind was getting to that frantic place where it made terrible decisions.

Stephen’s hands had slid down Loki’s front, over his chest, and slipped inside his jacket. The feeling of being trapped, the counter behind him and Stephen in front of him, nearly made him pant with lust. There was nothing he could do. Blood rushed straight to his crotch.

He was getting hard, and Stephen was kissing him slowly and deliberately, in a way that made it clear that he knew exactly what he was doing and relishing every second of it.

Hooking a finger over one of the buttons of Stephen’s jacket, Loki said—sloppily—“I thought you wanted to stay—another—hour or two?”

“Change of plans,” Stephen said, a growl to his voice. He reached for something, probably his sling ring in his pocket, but Loki grabbed his wrist, stopping him. Stephen drew back, one of his eyebrows raised. Loki licked his lips, half in trepidation, half in hunger.

What he was about to say was mad. Desire had a worse effect on him than alcohol. _Stephen_ had a worse effect on him than alcohol. 

Oh, Norns. Terrible decisions.

“Or,” Loki said, “we could stay.” He leaned forward and kissed along Stephen’s jaw, the feeling of his beard intoxicating against Loki’s mouth, until he got to his ear. Planting a slow kiss at Stephen’s sideburn, he murmured, “We can lock the door.”

Stephen looked around the bathroom, glancing over his shoulder at the bank of stalls. “Seriously,” he said, sounding as though Yule had come early. “You want to…?”

When Loki held a hand up and twirled his fingers, resulting in a click from the bathroom door, a hungry look entered Stephen’s eyes. Not just hungry. Desperate. Loki pressed his thigh between Stephen’s legs and stifled a groan at the hard bulge he could feel there. “Yes,” Loki said, “I do. I like you in that suit, Stephen, but I’m ready for it to come off.”

Stephen’s hands were still inside Loki’s jacket, but at this, he slid one of them down to Loki’s waistband and hooked his fingers inside, his knuckles digging into Loki’s belly. Then, he stepped backwards, drawing Loki with him until they entered a stall. Once inside, Loki slipped a hand behind himself to lock it.

The two of them stared at each other. Loki looked down. His own hard-on was obvious. Stephen’s was no less so. “Fuck,” Loki breathed, and then pulled Stephen to him, one arm around his back, one hand in his hair, while Stephen pushed Loki’s jacket off and yanked his shirt out of his pants. Their kissing was—it was—well, Loki moaned as Stephen sucked on his tongue, breath hot against Loki’s face. It was desperate, unquestionably filthy, tongues in each other’s mouths, penetrating deeper as unsubtle prelude to the cock that one of them was about to have buried in his arse.

Loki unbuttoned Stephen’s pants and pulled the zipper down. The metal was hot from Stephen’s cock pressing against it. As he pushed them down over Stephen’s hips, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Stephen’s underwear. Those could go, too. He dropped into a crouch to pull all of it off, pausing briefly to take Stephen’s entire cock in his mouth, which made Stephen let loose with a moan that told Loki exactly how turned on he was. Not that he needed the aural cue. He had, after all, an—ahem—oral cue halfway down his throat. Pre-cum smeared over his tongue and lips as he drew back and Stephen’s dick fell from his mouth.

“Tease,” Stephen groaned.

“Yes,” Loki agreed, then fumbled at the buttons of Stephen’s shirt as they kissed again. Several of them simply popped off, pinging off the floor and skittering away. Stephen got Loki’s shirt open and worked on his pants, though the speed with which they dropped around Loki’s ankles made him suspect the involvement of magic.

He felt his underwear being pushed down over his hips to his thighs, and then Stephen’s hand gripped his cock, pumping up and down slowly, thumb pushing into the slit. The sound that escaped Loki’s throat was strangled, embarrassing—shit—he’d practically come from that alone. Gods, he was turned on.

His jacket fell to the bathroom floor with a _whump_ of fabric and Stephen’s followed. The stall door was cold against Loki’s back, even though his shirt was still on—but he was slicked in sweat from Stephen’s touch, and his shirt was halfway to being soaked through. The urge to move his hips was impossible to control. With a moan, he leaned forward, sucking on Stephen’s neck, his hands cupping Stephen’s arse, squeezing it, spreading it to find his hole. He circled it with a finger, drawing throaty panting from Stephen. Fucking Stephen’s hand felt amazing. He could think of something that would feel better.

Stephen’s other hand was in Loki’s hair, sliding down his neck, under the collar of his open shirt, clutching at his shoulders. Trailing his tongue up Stephen’s neck, tracing the tip around his ear, Loki breathed, “Stephen—can I fuck you?”

With a laugh, low and delighted and terribly sexy, Stephen said, “Loki, you can fuck my brains out any time you want.”

Moaning, Loki flicked his fingers to vanish Stephen’s underwear and pants, still unhelpfully around his ankles. And while he was at it, he removed his shoes and socks. While he put all that _into_ his pocket dimension, he pulled their jar of lube out, snagging it in one hand. Then, his heart hammering, he wrapped an arm around Stephen and hoisted him off the ground, turning around and pushing him back against the stall door.

Stephen wrapped his legs around Loki’s back, heels brushing his arse, and took the lube from Loki’s fingers. He unscrewed the lid, then turned the jar upside down and let it drip out onto Loki’s cock, one arm slung around Loki’s neck.

Though it was a bit of an incongruous thought, Loki couldn’t help staring at the jar and thinking about it. They had to get lube in jars because Stephen struggled with the other kinds, squeeze bottles and pumps, a fact which Loki had discovered when he’d bought their second bottle ever. Once Stephen had finally admitted what the problem was, Loki had felt terrible, not least because Stephen’s hands had been particularly bad that day.

The lube was cool as it hit his cock, but Stephen’s hand took care of that. He smeared lube down Loki’s entire length, running his fingers slowly up and down until Loki moaned and arched his hips with longing.

Stephen tossed the jar to the floor and reached down. Even though Loki couldn’t see what he was doing, he knew Stephen was lubing his own entrance. The thought made his legs tremble and he dug his fingers into Stephen’s back, panting as he pressed against him. He only needed one arm to support Stephen’s weight, and Loki slid the other up Stephen’s ribs, along his bicep and back to his shoulder. He left it there as he bent his head forward and buried it in the crook of Stephen’s neck, kissing along his collarbone.

With a groan, Stephen wrapped his other arm around Loki’s shoulders, shifting his hips forward and making Loki’s dick brush, and then press into, his balls. Stephen’s cock was resting against Loki’s stomach, leaving a spot of wet that made him wish he was somehow flexible enough to bend down and suck Stephen off while he fucked him.

“I need that lube again,” Loki murmured into Stephen’s shoulder.

“There’s still some on my hand,” Stephen replied, turning his head to kiss Loki’s forehead.

Of course there was. When Loki stretched back to take Stephen’s hand in his, transferring lube to his hand, he tightened his hold on Stephen’s fingers just for a moment.

Then, Loki reached down, slowly moving his palm over Stephen’s arse until his fingers found his hole, slick with lube. He shifted forward as he spread Stephen wide, sliding a finger inside. Stephen’s arse opened to him, relaxed and ready. Loki sighed, withdrawing his finger. When the head of his cock pushed at Stephen’s entrance, Loki breathed in and out slowly. It had been a while since they’d done it this way. The last thing he wanted to do was come too soon. He wanted to give Stephen a _ride_.

“Odinson,” Stephen mumbled. “Come _on._ ”

A noise that was half laughter, half whine came out of Loki’s mouth, and he couldn’t do anything but what Stephen wanted. With a relieved groan, he sank himself into Stephen, pushing deeper and deeper until he was inside, tip to balls, and Stephen shuddered with pleasure. Stephen was tight around him, hot, slick, dizzyingly satisfying. Loki felt Stephen’s sphincter flex, tightening, and that made it hard to feel his own legs.

Stephen slid his hand onto the back of Loki’s neck, his thumb stretching to run along the bottom of Loki’s jaw. His eyes closed, his brow furrowed, and he breathed, “God, that feels so fucking good.”

Loki threw a hand out and braced it against the stall door, drinking in Stephen’s face. Beautiful. Even in a bathroom stall, he was beautiful.

He pressed his forehead to Stephen’s and tightened his grip on Stephen’s back. Then, with a helpless noise and an exhalation, Loki started moving his hips, thrusting slowly.

As his cock slid in and out of Stephen, Loki moaned and squeezed his eyes shut. Stephen’s breathing was ragged. His heels dug into Loki’s arse as he shifted himself forward, lifting his hips. His hand clenched a fistful of Loki’s shirt. Every muscle in Stephen’s body felt taut, from his calves and thighs, wrapped around Loki’s waist, to his arms, slung over Loki’s shoulders. As Loki fucked him, he watched sweat bead on Stephen’s skin, running down his face from his temples into his beard, plastering his hair to his forehead. It was everything Loki could do not to lick it off.

Stephen groaned and wrapped his arms more tightly around Loki’s neck, pulling himself up. His abs stood out as he rocked forward. So hot, so terribly, fucking hot—Stephen had exactly the right amount of muscle; there was power in him but he looked so…human, and when all those muscles _did_ stand out, Loki was helpless against the sight.

With a gasp, Loki wrapped both his arms around Stephen’s back, holding him up, supporting all of his weight with his arms and hips. Stephen’s head was above Loki’s now, but their faces were still touching as Loki tilted his up. Their foreheads bumped together as Loki thrust into Stephen. Stephen bounced up and down, skewered on Loki’s cock. He laughed breathlessly and said, “This is pretty bad.”

“I know,” Loki mumbled. His fingers slipped on Stephen’s back and he gripped him harder. If anyone had tried to get into the bathroom in the last few minutes, Loki hadn’t heard it. He wasn’t in much of a state to. Every nerve in his body was thrumming, his brain was fuzzing to blackness, and all he could feel was Stephen squeezed tight around his cock as he moved in and out, his breath loud in his ears.

“We should fuck in public more often,” Stephen growled in Loki’s ear, his hands slipping on Loki’s shoulders.

Loki gasped, intending this to be an answer, knowing it wasn’t, and yanked Stephen’s head down, kissing him hard, mouth open. Stephen lifted himself up, almost off Loki’s cock, and shoved himself back down as Loki rammed upwards, sinking himself so far into Stephen that nothing else existed but the feel of him. Nothing but their bodies and desire and the explosion of release.

His fingers dug into Stephen’s back and Loki came, his cry muffled against Stephen’s mouth. Stephen’s hands slid up into Loki’s hair and twisted, and he kissed Loki slowly, deeply, as Loki emptied himself, his hips moving more languidly now.

Though his cock was still twitching and his legs were shaking, Loki pushed Stephen back against the stall door again, reaching a hand between them until his fingers closed around Stephen’s dick. It was hot, and so hard, practically throbbing in his palm. Stephen’s moan sounded strangled as Loki touched him, his grip tight. The only problem with fucking Stephen was that Loki then desperately wanted Stephen to fuck him, even though he’d just come. Sometimes they did just that. Stephen’s need after having Loki’s cock up his arse made him mindless, led him to fuck hard and rough and dirty in a way that Loki found exhilarating.

Loki’s toes curled at the thought. It made for good, if exhausting, sex.

This wasn’t the place for it though, as much as Loki wanted it. Stephen kissed Loki harder, sloppily, his hands still gripped in Loki’s hair, their tongues sliding against each other’s, his breath coming in harsher gasps as Loki pumped his hand faster.

Then, Stephen tensed, his muscles tightening. Loki felt Stephen’s cock spasm as he came, fluid spurting upwards. Most of it sprayed over Loki’s stomach. He’d been aiming Stephen’s cock for the express purpose of being come on, which was…well, which was something that he had always liked. And always been ashamed of, until Stephen. The feel of it hitting him, then running thickly down his stomach, made his cock twitch, even though it was getting soft and likely to slide out any second.

Stephen moaned his name, and the sound of that would never, never not make Loki’s knees weak, would never not be a yank behind his sternum, at his heart, his mind, his soul.

“I love you,” Loki whispered, his mouth still on Stephen’s.

“I love you too,” Stephen murmured back. His hands moved from Loki’s hair to his face and he pressed the bridge of his nose into Loki’s, letting his lips just brush against Loki’s mouth. “I love you so much.”

Loki made a noise, defenseless, and kissed him softly.

“But,” Stephen said, a wryness creeping into his voice, “my legs are cramping.”

With a chuckle, Loki shifted, supporting Stephen as he swung his legs down to put his feet on the floor. Loki glanced down to see cum running down the inside of Stephen’s leg, and he wordlessly tore off several squares of toilet paper, then handed it to him.

“So,” Stephen said, smiling, “do I get to point out that this isn’t _that_ different than PDA?”

Loki grabbed a handful of toilet paper for to clean himself up. “We’re not technically in public,” he said.

“We don’t have an _audience._ We’re definitely in public.”

At that moment, as though on cue, the door to the bathroom rattled. It stopped, then rattled again. Then, someone pounded on it, and Thor’s voice yelled, “Hello? Is someone in there?”

Grimacing, Loki reached down to pull his pants and underwear back on. When Stephen gave him a meaningful look, Loki said, “Oh—yes. Right.” His pocket dimension opened and he grabbed Stephen’s clothes, fishing the jar of lube off the floor and putting that back where it belonged too.

Thor pounded on the door again and Loki simply cast a glamor over himself to account for the disheveled state that he was surely in, then left Stephen in the stall and went to open the door. “What are you shouting about?” he asked Thor crossly as it swung open.

Giving Loki a suspicious look, Thor said, “The door was locked.”

“Was it?” Loki asked. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“It didn’t open,” Thor said. “That means it was locked.”

Loki furrowed his brow. “Are you sure you were pulling it? Perhaps you were pushing.”

Thor gave him a look that was so withering that Loki was almost proud. “I know how to open a door, Loki. It was clearly locked.”

Putting a hand to the doorframe, Loki angled his body to block Thor’s entrance. “I don’t know how that would happen,” he said, feeling confident he was striking just the right balance of apologetic and mystified.

Thor stared at him. Then, he lowered his voice. “Is Stephen in there?”

“I don’t know, I suppose he might be. Someone else came in while I was in here—”

“Your pants are unbuttoned,” Thor said.

Loki felt his eyes widen and he looked down, his hands shooting to his waistband to fasten the button, before remembering that even if he _had_ forgotten to button his pants, he’d cast a glamor. Heat rose to his face but Thor laughed. When had he gotten so sneaky? “Your secret’s safe with me, brother. I’ve had my share of—ah—liaisons in questionable places.”

This didn’t particularly help to lessen the mortification. It was one thing to think about getting caught in the heat of passion. Then, the idea was hot. It was quite another to have to face a family member in the cold light of the post-coital wind-down.

Grabbing Loki by the arm, Thor pulled him out of the doorway and gave him a push down the hallway. “A word of advice,” Thor said. “You don’t want to be seen coming out together.”

Turning back around to look at Thor, Loki tilted his chin up and said, “You know, you weren’t ever fooling anyone back in your more… _profligate_ days.”

Thor didn’t seem bothered by this revelation. “You won’t fool anyone if you’re standing here when Stephen comes out.”

Loki didn’t need to be told again. Straightening his suit—though it didn’t matter, did it, because of the glamor?—he walked down the corridor. He didn’t go back to the restaurant’s main dining area, though. Instead, he wandered to the other end of the hallway, where the long bank of windows around the dining room came to an end. He could hear the swell of conversation from the other room but couldn’t actually see it, and no one could see him.

The Mediterranean was such a bright blue that it almost hurt his eyes. It _did_ hurt his heart a bit. He still would have rather been down on the shoreline instead of here.

Though, he supposed recent events had made their attendance more bearable.

A smile crept across his face and he scrubbed at his hand. The beauty of magic. There was still cum crusted on his thumb and fingers, which no one could see but him.

“At least it was your brother,” Stephen’s voice said from behind him.

Loki rolled his eyes but said, “Yes. It could have been…more embarrassing.”

With a chuckle, Stephen came to stand behind him, nudging his shoulder against Loki’s. His arm slipped around Loki’s waist. Loki raised a hand and put it over Stephen’s, feeling Stephen’s scars against his palm. “So what about this?” Stephen asked. “Does this qualify as PDA?”

Smiling slightly, Loki turned his head, leaned over, and kissed Stephen gently. “Perhaps I could see my way to indulging in it once in awhile.”

Stephen’s fingers tightened at his waist. “What about the bathroom sex?”

Loki’s smile got a little wider. “Well, that,” he said, “is something I could likely see my way to indulging in slightly _more_ than once in awhile.” He kissed Stephen again. “Let’s go. I want to take a walk with you on the beach.”

Hesitating, Stephen glanced over his shoulder. But then, his smile grew soft. “Okay,” he agreed. “Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone for reading! There's a whoooole kink bingo card that nonexistenz and I have, so this is the first of 25 Froststrange smut fics XD
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one. Kudos and comments are greatly, greatly appreciated! Check out [nonexistenz's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonexistenz) profile too for more of her amazing work!
> 
> You can also come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://aurorawest.tumblr.com/)! I like to talk about Loki.


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